A BLONDE BIRD IN FLIGHT

And off she rana blonde bird in flight,a bright baby birdinto the night, focused and flappingas if chasing the morning, as if orchestrating the trees,as if transported by the breezeflying over fields of youth,twists and turns and truth,folds of frivolous folly,courting clouds in curiosity,looking for a reasonto rhyme upon,a reason to ride on

and she will flyin spiralling circlesthat surround youbefore circling youin widening widths,further stretches,further afield,a blonde birdbut blue to youand the agony of letting her goand the ecstasy of having her backbut she is bound with those big eyes,those beautiful eyes, to brighter breezes,to warmer beaches,bound for bigger thingslike the grass growing over fading footsteps,like the trees towering over ticking time,like the cloudswild to the will of the wind,

to far flung lands she will flyas you sigh, to other fields,to foreign fields to set down findings, feelings, foundations,familiarities foreign to you,foolish to youbut faithful and fruitful to her,a home in other hills,a happiness to harbourin other homes

and then one daywhen the breeze beckonsyou catch her scent on your shoulderwhere it wasn’t there beforeand you will find heronce again in a field familiar to you both.